


poison + wine

by Super_Danvers



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: AHS, Again, F/F, Fleetwood Mac, Gay, Gay Witches, apocalypse fix it au, foxxay reunion, its super gay witches man, misty remembers everything, misty sees cordelia die, stevie mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23946400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Super_Danvers/pseuds/Super_Danvers
Summary: Let us stand in the place where we first met, and just embrace it.
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	poison + wine

“Satan has one son, but my sisters are legion **_motherfucker_.**”

Misty’s whole world stopped as Cordelia plunged the knife into her chest. It felt like she was falling down a rabbit hole and all she could do to stop it was desperately try find a ledge to grab onto. But, in this scenario, there was no ledge and all she could do was wait for it all to go back. The swamp witch watched in frozen horror as blood oozed from Cordelia’s wound as thick, red liquid, making the older witch gasp in pain. It stained her hands, the dagger, her clothes and dripped onto the floor in fat droplets. In the dim lighting of the hallway, her blood almost looked black. Misty barely noticed how Mallory’s cold hand suddenly became hot and gripped hers with new strength, squeezing it so tightly that she almost broke the bone. She didn’t hear how the girl cast _Tempus Infinitum_ at the top of her voice and plunged under the water. All Misty could see was the look on Cordelia’s face as her body shuddered with pain.

“Cordelia!” Myrtle screamed in despair, a gloved hand reaching out for the blonde, but Cordelia cast her back.

She looked proud: a triumphant smile covered her face as Michael roared in anger. The boy snarled at the Supreme, practically foaming at the mouth. Her chin was raised as she fought her shaking body, but her eyes were pointed straight at Misty. The younger witch must’ve looked like a mess because the Supreme’s smile faltered, and her hand struggled to hold onto the blade’s handle. Her lips parted in a silent, quivering sob as she pulled the blade from her chest and let it clatter to the floor.

Misty knew she didn’t have much time. It wouldn’t take Mallory very long to stop Michael if she went back to the right time, so she had to make the best of what time she had. Misty abandoned the brunette to Myrtle’s care and desperately skidded to Cordelia’s side as the Supreme shuddered again. Her knees buckled beneath her and, had Misty not caught her, she would’ve collapsed into a pool of her own blood as her body gave way. Misty pulled Cordelia into her lap, ignoring how the blood stained her knees and shoes, caring more to brush the blonde hair out of the witch’s face.

Cordelia was gasping for air but held onto Misty’s sleeves as best she could. Misty cradled her face close, trying to quieten her as blood spluttered from her mouth.

“It’s alright, Cordelia, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She whispered, pressing her forehead to the older witch so her eyes could stare into hers. “I’ve got you, _ssh ssh_.”

“M... Mis...- “Cordelia’s voice mumbled. Her mouth was shaking uncontrollably, unable to make words as she tried to keep it in control. A sad, soft expression rested on her pained face that looked as delicate as a china doll.

There was a sneering laugh from the other end of the hallway. Michael glared at the two witches, sniggering although he was also suffering from his wounds. “I’ll say one thing, Cordelia, it is _so_ pleasing to watch you die.”

Although Misty knew he wouldn’t last long either with Mallory in the next room, she didn’t hesitate to pick up the discarded knife and hurl it at him. It flew across the hallway too quick for him to block it, and it embedded itself into his groin, making the boy grunt and twist uncomfortably. She knew it wasn’t that much of an inconvenience for him, but it made her feel better. It seemed to make Cordelia feel better too because a stronger smile twitched at the corners of her lips.

“Ni…” She coughed. More blood spattered against her porcelain skin. Misty dabbed it away with her shawl. The older witch took a second, closing her eyes and inhaling. “ _Nice…throw_.”

Misty smiled, and realised she was crying. A salty tear dripped onto Cordelia’s cheek and trickled down her face, mixing in with the Supreme’s blood. “You know I am. Mallory’s alive, Cordelia…” She whispered. “You _saved_ her.”

Another smile graced Cordelia’s face, and for a moment, the pride and triumph returned to her. She gave a tiny nod, as if silently assuring herself she’d done the right thing. But, again, she faltered as another wrack of pain shot through her, and her eyes returned to Misty’s face. Cordelia reached up, trying to touch Misty’s face, but her hand dropped down to her side instead. She wasn’t strong enough.

“You’ll go back to Hell.” She whispered, a small sob sticking in her clotted throat. “We’ll forget this…I don’t want to forget this.”

As Misty’s thumb brushed over Cordelia’s tears, she shook her head. “Don’t you worry about me, Miss Cordelia.” She spoke softly, recalling the old nickname to make the other witch smile. She was starting to fade now; her eyes were starting to shut. That only made Misty hold her tighter. Resisting the urge to heal her was proving harder than she’d ever thought it would be. Misty pulled one of Cordelia’s hands into hers and held it against her cheek. “I’ll be alright, don’t you worry.”

“I love you.”

Cordelia pressed a kiss to Misty’s other hand and followed it with another shuddering cough. Misty replied to it with a kiss to her forehead, just letting the pair regard each other in their final moments. It was four more seconds before Cordelia’s chest stopped rising and another two before she lay completely still in Misty’s arms, becoming heavy and lifeless. The swamp witch kept her eyes shut. She knew that if she even dared to open her eyes and see the love of her life laying there with no glimmer in the eyes she’d fallen in love with all those years ago; then she’d have to heal her. She’d have no resistance against the temptation to place her hands over Cordelia’s chest and reverse the gaping hole that had torn the Supreme from her.

The only noise now were Myrtle’s quiet sobs from the next room and Michael’s uncomfortable groans of pain. Misty was almost tempted to let go of Cordelia and throw another knife into him, make him suffer for everything that he’d done. She could make him pay for taking Cordelia away from her. But, she couldn’t bring her

So, Misty kept her eyes shut and waited for the light that would take her back to Hell. She hoped Cordelia would come and get her again. If not, that was fine too. She was honoured to have just been a part of Cordelia’s life again after being away so long. Misty thought back to simpler times as she waited. She remembered how Cordelia had taught her new botany skills, and how she’d helped her in turn by showing her how to navigate around the house without the use of her eyes. She remembered how Cordelia had encouraged her to perform the Seven Wonders, purely because she believed in her that much. Funny, Misty thought to herself, the last time one of them had died: they’d been in this exact same position. Except now the tables were turned, and it was Misty crying into a body that just melted away and only she remained: in _darkness_.

+

The next time Misty opened her eyes, the croaking frog was staring back up at her, and the blade resting on the table beside it. Her heart felt like it fell out of her chest as she stared down at the innocent creature. As her thumb brushed gently over its skin, her lower lip wobbled as she knew what was about to happen.

“Mr Kingery, she did it again!”

Misty didn’t bother to look at the boy who hadn’t changed in all the years she’d been here. How long had she been here now? Five years? Seven years? _More?_ It wasn’t like she could keep count when all she did was slice open frogs 24/7. She wondered how many times she’d cut this frog open; it must’ve been over a million times by now.

“Where’s the dissection frog?” Mr Kingery demanded, appearing beside her like he always did.

The boy sat up further, just like clockwork. “It’s right there, she brought it back to life!”

“Shut up, Bobby!” He snarled, then turned back to Misty, who kept her eyes to the ground. “She snuck a live one in to trick you. The trick is on her. Pick up that scalpel.”

Misty didn’t move.

“If you cannot dissect a dead frog, then you will dissect a live one.” Misty didn’t react as Mr Kingery grabbed her wrist and held it above the croaking frog.

She’d learned that struggling against the biology teacher wasn’t going to make a bit of difference, so instead she shut her eyes and stuck her free hand over one ear. It didn’t do much to drown out the sound of the knife cutting into the frog’s stomach, nor did it stop the strangled whimper that escaped her throat – but at least it protected her eyes from all the blood. The moment Mr Kingery dropped Misty’s wrist, her eyes would open and soon enough, her hands were covering the frog’s mangled body and resurrecting it. First, a long leg stretched out, then a twitch and a croak would follow it.

_“Mr Kingery, she did it again!”_

Misty sighed, and shut her eyes again, resigning herself away. She knew that she had to try and think about anything else than the frog and the impending jolt of Mr Kingery wrapping his strong arms around her wrist. It had been what had got her through it before, thinking of other things. Stevie was a prominent figure in her mind, as was the coven and Cordelia. Sometimes, Misty could delve so deeply into her thoughts that she didn’t even feel the blade cutting into the amphibian and sometimes, her eyes would open and she wasn’t sure if she was crying about the frog or her missing life outside of this hell bubble. The blonde decided this time around, she’d think about Cordelia and how _alive_ she would be now.

“Misty?” A quiet voice called.

Misty froze in place, her knuckles turning white because she was holding the knife so tightly. That wasn’t Cordelia’s voice. Or Stevie’s. Misty often found that, if her thoughts were deep enough, she could hear their voices speaking back to her. This was not one of those thoughts. Her eyes snapped open. She expected to see the frog laying beneath her hands, but instead, a pair of hands rested upon hers. They were pale like hers, but smaller, almost around teenager kind of size. Dark blue nail varnish covered delicate fingertips that slowly entwined themselves into Misty’s hands.

A frown formed between the swamp witch’s brows as she kept staring at the hands. They almost didn’t seem real. She knew they weren’t Mr Kingery’s. His were cold and smelled of formaldehyde whereas these were warm and smelled like the incense that was burned in her room at Robichaux’s. After a moment, she finally allowed her eyes to look upwards.

The face that stared back her was warm, and familiar. Long brown hair framed a small round face and hung down to the shoulders. A simple black flare dress covered a short, plump figure that was paired with knee high socks and a set of chunky Doc Martens. A small, tired smile came to Misty’s features as she remembered:

“Nan.”

The young witch smiled and squeezed Misty’s hands, making the blonde gasp out a wet sigh of relief. When Mr Kingery touched her hands, it felt like plastic, or that they’d been numbed and had no feeling to them. This was different. Misty felt every crease of Nan’s calloused hands, felt her thumb squeezing against her rings. Nan was _real._ Misty glanced around the classroom, frowning. Mr Kingery stood still in the corner, his face blank and emotionless as if he was a mannequin at a clothes store. Bobby, the boy sat across from her, was the same. It was like they’d been put on pause. Only Nan and Misty could move.

The brunette squeezed the swamp witch’s hand again. “You need to come with me.” She gently tugged her up to her feet, but Misty was still frowning around the room.

“How can you be here?” She questioned, staring at the immobile figures. They almost looked plastic, like they’d never moved in the first place. When she reached out to touch their hollow faces, Nan tugged her back again.

“C’mon, we haven’t got much time.” She said firmly, pulling the blonde towards the classroom door. The classroom door Misty had longed to close her hand around since the moment she’d been glued to that stool. Nan’s hand took hold of it, twisted it, and pulled it open.

She dragged Misty into a world of pitch-black nothingness. There was only nothing. Misty couldn’t see what she was walking on, nor could she see what was around her. The only thing she could make out was Nan holding onto her, and even that was like tunnel vision. Her eyes blurred around the sides, and Nan flickered like an old Hollywood movie. She wondered if this was what Cordelia used to see before her eyesight was restored. Cold, black, nothingness. A chill ran down her spine and seemed to envelope her entire body in freezing ice. Misty pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders, hoping it would warm her up a bit. It usually did when she was out at the swamp on a cold night, or if she was feeling alone. She’d rarely had to use it since she’d met Cordelia.

Nan kept a firm hold on Misty’s arm, and she was glad for it. She felt if Nan let go of her, she’d just drift away into the black. The younger witch pulled her along, searching around as if she was looking for something. After a few minutes, the brunette came across a dark red door that had no frame. It just simply existed. She stopped in front of it.

“We’re going through here.” She stated gesturing to the door with her head.

Misty eyed it unsurely. The door gave her bad vibes, like the ones she’d felt when she’d first arrived at Miss Robichaux’s and like the ones she’d felt when she first met Michael. Dread consumed her like the cold had done, seeping into her bones like poison and turning her rigid. Her feet planted, and her grip around her shawl tightened. She bit her lip and looked at Nan.

“Where are we going?” She asked. Misty hated how weak and vulnerable her voice sounded, but when stood in total darkness with only a red door in front of her, that was understandable. Nan seemed to understand and took her hand again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The blonde nodded. “Okay.”

She wasn’t sure what made her walk through the door. Whether it was the hopeful optimism that what lay beyond it was a life brighter than the one she was living, or the acceptance that should her life end now, then it would be alright. Of course, she hoped that it was the former. Misty hoped she would see Cordelia again, that she would feel the safety of the Supreme wrapping her arms tightly around her body and never letting go. She longed to hear the sounds of Stevie drifting through the house above the noise of chattering students and the overall hum of life.

As soon as Nan opened the door, light filled the black void and blinded Misty so that she had to shut her eyes tight. She felt her whole body lift as if she was levitating, or as if someone was lifting her upwards. _Yup_ , she thought to herself _, she was dying_. Technically, Misty was already dead – but she figured this was _permanent_ permanent. Nan tugged on her hand again, reminding her of her presence.

“Open your eyes, Misty.” She spoke, her voice echoing like she was miles away.

Misty did as she was told, letting the white light burn into her eyes. It didn’t hurt, but rather ached. It was like staring into the sun for too long, she thought to herself as her eyelids fluttered up and down. Something was pulling her downwards by the feet. Misty felt like she’d been in the sky and someone had wrapped a rope around her ankles to bring her back down to Earth. The speed was getting faster and faster, like she was falling. Misty’s eyes squeezed shut again and her free hand covered them.

“I don’t like it!” She yelped as it got faster and faster. If she landed on anything at this speed, she’d shatter her legs. Nan kept holding onto her, unfazed by their seemingly impending doom.

“Open your eyes.” She said calmly. Misty shook her head firmly, and kept her eyes squeezed shut. Her stomach was beginning to feel queasy and she knew if she even peeped through her closed eyelids, she was going to hurl. They continued to rush downwards. After a few seconds, Nan squeezed her hand again. “Open your eyes.”

Her tone was more forceful, but friendliness still laced her tone – and so Misty did as she was asked. She opened her eyes to find they weren’t falling anymore. In fact, their feet rested on off-white floorboards that creaked if Misty so much as breathed. Nan let go of her hand and walked forward to a pair of crème doors and pushed them open. She didn’t turn around to wait for Misty.

The swamp witch followed, not wanting to be alone in _wherever the fuck_ they were. The crème doors opened to a large, narrow hallway that was lit purely by the sunlight casting through a huge window on one end. In front of the window, a set of stairs that stretched almost across the entire width of the hallway led up to tall, white ceilings and jet-black railings. Misty let out the gasp she hadn’t realised she was holding in.

“I-…I remember this-“ Her voice sounded out of breath, _no_ , in awe. She was at Miss Robichaux’s Academy, stood in the spot she’d first met Cordelia.

There was a clunking of footsteps, a pair of people were coming closer towards them from the other hallways. Misty’s fingers tightened around her shawl nervously. She didn’t know who was coming, nor did she even know what year she was in. Taking a step back, she let Nan handle it. The brunette just took off her hat and straightened herself out. When the two figures appeared in the archway directly opposite the two witches, they halted when they saw them. Misty’s heart felt like it stopped.

She recognised both witches immediately. One, which was Mallory, looked a little different to when Misty had last seen her. Her hair, a golden-brown colour, hung down past her shoulders and had tiny little star hairpins woven into it to match the half-moon necklace that dangled around her neck. Her clothes were more refined, they almost looked like something Misty would wear if she preferred that kind of luxury. The other figure in the doorway was the one who made Misty’s heart stop.

Cordelia stood taller and prouder than ever, but she still looked different. The bags beneath her eyes were gone, as was the gaping hole in her chest. Her long, blonde hair curled down just below her shoulders and matched elegantly with the peony-coloured lace dress she wore. Her eyes shone a beautiful light brown and glinted in the sunlight shining through the window. She looked just as beautiful as the day they’d met.

“What’s up, bitches?” Nan greeted with a mischievous grin.

Cordelia seemed lost for words. Suddenly, she looked very frail, as if she was dreaming or all of the wind had been sucked from her lungs. Misty didn’t fail to notice how her fingers found the hip of Mallory’s dress to steady herself. She almost wanted to go to her, to hold her and prove that she was real and not just a vision. The Supreme looked dumbfounded the moment Nan opened her mouth.

“…Nan?” Her voice came out hoarse and cracked as she spoke the witch’s name. The brunette nodded her presence. “Wha…how? How is this possible?”

Mallory was holding her elbow tightly now, making sure she didn’t faint. The youngest witch glanced to Misty with a gentle smile, as if to say _it’s alright_. Misty couldn’t find her own words either, her eyes could only remain locked on Cordelia. For a fleeting second, she was frightened this might be some trick being played on her and any moment now, she was going to be stuck back in that classroom. The blonde banished the thought from her mind and took a tiny step forward.

Cordelia’s eyes found hers, and immediately brimmed with tears. Her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. “Misty?” She was on the edge of tears and spoke like she’d been longing to say that name for years. “Is that really you? Are you really here?”

She took a small step and it was like they both melted. Misty let out a tiny, strangled sob and rushed into Cordelia’s arms, hugging her tightly. The Supreme embraced her equally as hard, burying her head into the crook of Misty’s neck so that her hair tickled the swamp witch’s chin.

“How is this possible?” She whispered. Cordelia’s happy tears were dampening Misty’s clothes, but she didn’t mind. She was happy to have Cordelia in her arms. The older witch hugged her tighter. “How are you here?”

Cordelia let her go, holding her by the upper arms. She was studying Misty’s sodden face, as if trying to decipher if she was real or not. Her hands traced over her eyes, nose and mouth like she used to do when she was blind and tried to remember people via the feel of their face. Misty took Cordelia’s hand, and held it to her cheek.

“I never thought I’d see you again, Miss Cordelia.” She whispered. Cordelia flinched as she remembered the nickname, but a smile reached her features as another tear dribbled down her cheek. Misty glanced to Nan. “But…Nan just showed up out of the blue and took me away from it all. She guided me home.”

Cordelia beamed, enveloping Nan into a hug. “Thank you.” She whispered into her ear, giving her a squeeze. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

The young witch only nodded and put her hat back on. “It’s no problem, Miss Cordelia.” She replied with a shrug. “I have to go back now.”

She turned, only to be caught around the wrist by Cordelia. “Nan, where are you going?” She questioned, her voice confused and worried. “You should stay. I imagine Queenie would love to see you.”

Nan only pried Cordelia’s hand off her wrist and shook her head. “No. I have to get back to Papa.” She glanced to Mallory, dipped her hat, and turned again. This time, none of the witches made any protest. Cordelia was still just as confused but Misty figured it was best to let her go. Hell seemed to be giving Nan more peace than the real world ever had. The brunette walked back through the doors without another word and disappeared.

Cordelia’s eyes lingered on where Nan had been stood for a moment, then she shook her head and turned her attention back to Misty. “Please tell me that I’m not dreaming and that you’re actually real.” She almost begged. “Tell me the hand in mine is real and not a cruel joke.”

Misty squeezed it tightly. “It’s not a joke. I’m real. I’m here.” As she kept Cordelia’s hand in hers, she found herself glad that Cordelia couldn’t see what Misty had. She couldn’t see the horror that the nuclear fallout had brought the academy, or her witches. Through her thoughts, Misty found herself looking to Mallory.

Cordelia noticed, and followed her gaze. The brunette regarded them both with respect and innocence. The Supreme placed her free hand on Mallory’s shoulder and brought the three of them closer together. “Misty, I’d like you to meet one of our most promising young witches. This is Mallory.” She said. “It’s her first day here.”

Misty tried to conceal the relieved sigh that escaped her body. She knew Mallory could remember too, just from the look in her eyes. They were sad, almost worn out, but a glimmer of strength remained. Cordelia seemed to sense this as well and slipped her hand to Mallory’s other shoulder to give her a side hug.

“Hi.” Mallory greeted, extending her hand.

Misty hadn’t realised two minutes had passed since Cordelia had spoken, and she’d stood here gawping at Mallory like she was a circus attraction. The blonde moved to cup Mallory’s hand in both of hers and pulled her close. “Hello.” She whispered softly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Misty couldn’t place it, but she felt as connected to Mallory as she did to Cordelia. Perhaps it was the shared trauma, she thought to herself, but it was something. They shared a knowing smile, as if to say, _‘Look where we are, isn’t it amazing?’_

“It’s good to meet you too, Misty. I’ve heard a lot about you.” They exchanged another look, which made Cordelia raise her eyebrows, but she seemed to brush it off. Mallory took Misty’s hands and placed them back into Cordelia’s, closing them together and grinning as she noticed how their rings fitted together perfectly. “I imagine you two have a lot to catch up on. Bathroom’s up here, right Miss Cordelia?”

Without another word, the brunette turned and walked up the stairs and out of sight. Cordelia watched her go proudly. “She’s quite something, isn’t she?” She mumbled quietly, so quietly that Misty almost thought she was talking to herself. The Supreme took a moment to herself, turning away from the blonde. When she returned to the conversation, her eyes were brimming with tears again. When her arms opened, Misty gladly walked into them. Granted, Cordelia was being clingy, but Misty could understand why. Everyone she’d ever loved had left her. “I tried to save you, I did. I wanted to go into Hell and find you myself so I could bring you back here.”

Misty rubbed Cordelia’s back reassuringly. “Trust me, Miss Cordelia, you did save me. More than you’ll ever know.” The blonde thought back to all the times she’d thought of Cordelia while she’d been in that classroom. All the dreams she’d had, every thought she’d had about Cordelia had kept her sane all those years. “But god, am I glad to see you again.”

Cordelia replied with a wet laugh. “Yes, I suppose I’ve changed a lot since we last met.”

“Two working eyes for starters,” Misty chortled, gesturing to Cordelia’s chocolate brown eyes. She tried to ignore the niggling memory of Cordelia’s eyes fading away as she’d died. “Same colour and everything.”

Although Misty didn’t mind if Cordelia was blind or not, she had to admit that the older witch had such beautiful eyes when she could see with them. They lifted her up so much. The shy, downtrodden widow that could barely say boo to a goose had been replaced with the Supreme, powerful and not to be fucked with. Cordelia took Misty’s hand and started to guide her through the academy’s huge white halls. The swamp witch didn’t hear what she was saying, her ears could only hear women chattering from all directions. Both so close, and so far, she couldn’t make out what they were saying, only that they sounded happy. Misty hadn’t realised she’d missed how much noise filled the house. She became so lost in the sound of it all, she didn’t even notice that Cordelia had stopped walking and therefore, nearly collided into the back of her.

It earned a chuckle from someone that wasn’t Cordelia, and Misty suddenly felt very watched. She turned her head to see about fifteen faces staring back at her, all of them watching her with curious expressions written on their faces. All dressed in some assortment of black and white robes, fifteen girls were all sat at one the long tables with a rose in their hands. Some of the roses were white, whilst others had been turned to a beautiful, blood red. Misty only recognised two of the faces and found herself clinging to Cordelia’s hand nervously. She hated people staring at her. The blonde glanced at the faces.

One of them was Zoe. In the time Misty had spent in the erased timeline, she hadn’t seen her old friend outside the dimly lit Hawthorne Academy. Now, in the bright light of the house, she could see Zoe had grown so much. The frightened mousey girl had now manifested into a powerful witch who’s face shined as brightly as Cordelia’s did. She wore a white chiffon blouse that was covered by a black silk bow and a thigh-length blazer, replacing the long black dresses she always used to wear.

The second face was Queenie, and like Zoe, the sour-faced teenager had disappeared to make way for a bewitching woman with a cheeky glint in her eyes. The only thing that didn’t seem to have changed about Queenie was her sense of style. Chunky Doc Martens matched her black leather jacket and dark red t-shirt.

Zoe stepped forward first. “Misty?” She asked softly, remembering how the witch could be prone to spooking in strange environments. In fact, she almost laughed at the memory of Misty appearing in the back of her car whilst Kyle was thrashing around like a crazy person. But she remembered not to.

Misty didn’t know how to respond. She was stood in a room with all these people, most of whom she didn’t know and the ones she did know she’d all seen die at some point. The one she was holding onto had died in her arms, and she’d died in hers. There was a lot of death in this room.

When Misty didn’t react, Cordelia squeezed her hand. “Nan brought Misty back from Hell. She rescued her from Papa Legba, and took her home, to us.”

Queenie perked up at that. “Nan was here?”

Cordelia nodded, but held up her free hand. “Yes, but she’s gone now. I did ask if she wanted to see you, but I think she might’ve had other priorities.” She answered, making Queenie suck in her teeth and fold her arms. When the voodoo witch didn’t make any further protest, Cordelia turned to Misty and rubbed her arm comfortingly. “Do you want to rest upstairs? I understand this might be a bit much for you. A lot has changed.”

Misty took in a deep breath, exhaled it, and then shook her head. “No. No, I’m fine.” She mumbled and let go of Cordelia’s hand. Slowly, she approached Zoe. Had anyone asked the other students in the room what they were watching, they would’ve described it as watching a baby horse interact with people for the first time. Of course, if anyone _had_ asked, they wouldn’t have said anything in fear of pissing off their Supreme. Misty’s hands took Zoe’s, and a small smile graced her features as more memories came fleeting back.

Zoe didn’t seem to find the other witches behaviour odd at all. In fact, she let Misty study her hands and face with relaxed shoulders and settled patience. “It’s so good to see you again, Misty.” She told her. “I’ve missed you.”

The blonde met her eyes, paused, and then her smile grew big and wide. She let go of Zoe’s hands and enveloped her in a tight hug that nearly knocked the wind out of her. “Not dead.” She breathed as she took her friend in. “Not dead. You’re not dead!”

“No, I’m not dead.” Zoe rose her eyebrows. “Why would I be dead?”

Misty stiffened, reminding herself that Zoe didn’t know what she did. She didn’t know that she’d been gunned down along with the rest of the students in the room, nor that she’d died trying to protect the whole coven whilst Cordelia sat, helpless, in her office. Misty was going to have to write down what did happen and what didn’t to help herself remember. Realising she’d been holding onto Zoe for too long, she released her from the hug. “Uh, well, you know. You were always getting yourself impaled on shit when I saw you last.”

Zoe threw up her hands dramatically as Queenie and Cordelia chuckled. “It happened one time! It was one time!” But that didn’t stop her friends laughing, so she turned on her heel and addressed her students. “C’mon you guys, we’ll take this lesson outside.”

The others fought to keep their laughter under control as Zoe took her students out to the garden, but Misty watched her go. “She’s a teacher?”

“We all are.” Queenie chimed in. “Ever since Cordelia went public with the coven existing and everything, we got shit tons of girls coming to learn about themselves. So, we’re teachers now, as well as Zoe and me being Cordelia’s advisors.”

“I couldn’t run this place without them.” Cordelia stated proudly. She took a moment and then stepped closer to Misty and looked to Queenie. “Do you mind giving us a minute, Queenie?”

Queenie shrugged. “Sure thing. I’ll go help the new girl move in.” She said, turning to the door and muttering something to herself about _The Price Is Right,_ something Misty didn’t understand.

As soon as she was gone, Cordelia addressed Misty. “So, I imagine this is a lot. It’s a lot, isn’t it? Why wouldn’t it be? Loads of people in your face after you just got dragged out of your own personal hell. Who wouldn’t find that too much?” She took in a sharp breath. “Can I get you anything?”

Misty gazed around the halls. She couldn’t focus on anything. It all felt up in the air and out of her reach. She needed the place she could relax in. “The swamp.” She mumbled, nodding to herself. “I want to go to the swamp. Somewhere I remember.”

Cordelia didn’t question it. She took Misty by the arm and closed her eyes. There was a _woosh_ followed by a _crack_ and when the two witches opened their eyes again, they were stood in the middle of what Cordelia would describe as a damp field. Misty called it home. The younger witch breathed it all in, soaking up the damp grass squelching underneath her feet and the feeling of rain tickling her arms and face. She grinned as she caught a glimpse of dark clouds forming overhead.

“It’s going to storm.” She laughed as the rain got heavier. Cordelia shivered beside her and held her dress up above the mud. “Can you believe that? It’s going to storm.”

“Is this making you feel better?” The Supreme shouted as thunder rumbled overhead.

Misty looked to her. She couldn’t help but laugh at how worried Cordelia looked. It made her think of old times, old times when she’d first met the blonde. When she was like this tiny little bird still learning to fly. Misty pressed a kiss to her cheek, deciding that things would be different this time around. She’d lost Cordelia twice, and now, never again. The swamp witch embraced the rain as the thunder rolled over them again. She’d never felt more alive. Cordelia’s eyebrows raised as Misty placed another kiss on her nose and then took her hand, holding her in so close they were barely inches from one another.

“ _This_ is making me feel better.” She whispered, her baby hairs tickling Cordelia’s face. The older witch tried to hide the blush that came to her face. When Misty’s head turned, her hair practically embedded itself into Cordelia’s nose and she got the strong smell of her sweet, lavender-scented hair. She didn’t have time to breath it in because Misty was pulling her quite roughly through the tall grass.

It soaked their clothes and clogged their shoes with mud. The more it rained, and the more thunder rumbled above them, and the harder Cordelia held her hand: the more Misty came alive. She could practically feel her soul rising in her chest and lifting her off the ground, spurring her on towards her shack. The moment she spotted it rising over the hill, Misty swore her heart could sing. It hadn’t changed, save for some of her plants overgrowing. Her shack still remained, as did her beloved scarecrow outside although he’d been battered by the elements and was looking a little worse for wear.

“Ha ha!” She shouted, high off the joy of seeing her home again. “C’mon, Miss Cordelia!”

The Supreme was breathless from trying to keep up, but she looked happy, nonetheless. Her cheeks were as red as her dress, although that was being turned into a muddy brown from the swamp. Misty chuckled and came back to her to push a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“C’mon, you.”

Cordelia’s breath hitched at the way Misty’s voice changed whenever they were closer than six inches apart. It drove her crazy, especially hearing it again after all these years. She let the swamp witch drag her into the shack, only to stand back and smile when she gasped loudly. There, on the table beside Misty’s bed, was a dark red record player. It had been polished within an inch of its life, and several records were tucked neatly into a box beside it. Misty ran her fingers delicately over them as if they were priceless artefacts. Cordelia reached over her and pulled out one of the records, earning a smile from the younger witch as she recognised the blonde on the cover.

“Stevie.” She breathed as Cordelia gently placed the record on its player and moving the needle. Her eyes fluttered shut as the sweet tunes of ‘Rhiannon’ strummed into the shack. It was like the music cast a spell over her, and Misty nearly drifted off on Cordelia’s shoulder.

“Sorry if any of them are scratched.” The other witch mumbled. “I used to come here and listen to them, so I could feel close to you. That’s silly, I’m sorry.”

Misty lifted her head to meet Cordelia’s eyes. Tears were threatening to spill down her cheeks and her lower lip quivered ever so slightly. She was trying not to cry. Misty gently reached over, and her hands cupped Cordelia’s. Her fingers made little circles on the other witch’s knuckles and a soothing hum came with it. The Supreme didn’t know what she was doing, but it was making her feel better. The circles seemed to uplift her soul and warm her heart.

“It’s not silly.” Misty told her. “In fact, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Cordelia responded with a teary smile, before quickly wiping them away. “God, sorry, I’m always crying when I’m around you, aren’t I?” She chuckled.

Misty brushed Cordelia’s tears away with her thumb, offering a sympathetic smile. “You don’t need to apologise to me, Cordelia. For anything.” She turned to the record player and admired its elegance. “Thank you, for this.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not.”

“It feels like it.”

Misty frowned. “What makes you say that?”

Cordelia let out another sigh and indicated around the shack, gazing at it sadly. “I mean, it’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through. It’s the least I could do, considering I never got you out of Hell.” She murmured. “You deserve so much more than this, Misty. Much more than me. I should’ve tried harder to get you out, instead of mope around like a baby.”

Misty shook her head so firmly that her locks tumbled in front of her face and shielded her brimming eyes from Cordelia’s view. She squeezed Cordelia’s hands in hers, holding them gently as if they were a pair of baby birds.

“Miss Cordelia, you know I love you.” Misty started. Cordelia felt her own tears starting to well up again, and a small gasp escaped her, but the blonde ignored it. “I always have, since the day I met you, and I always will. Until the day we’re both _properly_ dead. I wish you could see yourself as I do, and I wish you could see how much you’ve grown since then. I may not be educated, but even I’m not thick enough to know that this was meant to happen. You didn’t need me to become the Supreme, and you didn’t need to come and get me for me to still love you, Cordelia. You could’ve left me in that place for eternity and I’d still love you.” Her hand stroked Cordelia’s cheek and smiled a soft, wistful smile. “All that matters to me now, is that we’re here together.”

Cordelia didn’t know what to say. The younger witch had just confirmed all these feelings she’d convinced were just in her head. So, instead of finding the words she knew she’d never find, the Supreme’s hand snaked across Misty’s jaw and settled just behind her ear. Very slowly, and very gently, she pulled her into a kiss that seemed to make everything fit into place. The gentle tunes of Rhiannon faded into the backgrounds along with their cares or worries, and even the din of the thunder outside quietened just for them. The kiss was slow, and meaningful, speaking all the words they’d both been longing to say for years. Misty, for the first time in her life, felt her spirit was being held as if it were a priceless artifact. Gentle, and caring. After what felt like forever, the kiss finally broke. Their foreheads rested together as they breathed through their laughter.

The words were still not finding Cordelia’s mouth. They got her throat and stuck there, but she didn’t care. It didn’t matter now that she could keep kissing Misty. She had Misty, and that’s all that mattered to her.

**Author's Note:**

> This took bloody ages to make so sorry if it's crap. It was inspired by a few songs, particularly Fleetwood Mac (duh!) and Unmade by Thom Yorke, Doomed by Moses Sumney and Poison + Wine by The Civil Wars


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